Not Very Funny, But Sadly True
I used to live with a mate in Manchester City Centre. We lived off Oxford Road in one of the cube-shaped apartments.

After a typical night out the road home was paved with what I came to call, "the pseudo-homeless". As we negotiated our way into Monsoon's (god rest its artery-clogging soul), they were everywhere - the whole variety show; stinky-dude, aggressive-dude, glum-dude, pissed-dude, change-for-a-cup-of-tea-dude, change-for-the-last-bus-dude..

That night, we got into a debate about my "lack of heart" versus his naivety about the pseudo-homeless. A gauntlet was laid down:

"Go and get a pasty from the Spar and give it to that pseudo-homeless bell-end sat over there. See what happens."

My mate, convinced he couldn't lose this one, skipped in and returned with a Ginster's pasty.

As he made his way over to the pseud, time slowed and I could hear classical music - it was like the docking scene in 2001: A Space Oddity. Their paths were set to cross and a well-meaning, yet naive, young man was about to feed a homeless tramp out of little more than compassion and the desire to win a bet.


"What the FUCK am I supposed to do with that, dickhead? Give me some money or PISS OFF".
(Her Ghost zomegle.com, Mon 6 Jul 2009, 21:24, Reply)